


All of You

by StolenVampires



Category: Ozmafia!! (Visual Novel)
Genre: Brothel Ending, Darkfic, Dorian-centric, F/M, In where she becomes the Mistress, i guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-01
Updated: 2017-06-01
Packaged: 2018-11-07 21:43:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11067717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StolenVampires/pseuds/StolenVampires
Summary: Fuka has lost her innocent self, and has become something new. She had nothing but herself once, so what is left? What was it that the man of Oscar Wilde Street sought when he took her and sent her to the darkness of sin? She let herself go, and all that remains is now his.And he is her's.





	All of You

His voice was like silk. Soft, it caressed her skin and mind and offered a comfort she hadn’t known. It was decadent and indulgent, his words teasing in the promise of all that they could offer her. How could she resist him? The temptation he offered was as sweet as honey. Yet it was not the pure golden promise of something enjoyable. It was the promise of something wicked. Something forbidden. Something dark, tainted, and all-around threatening.

Dorian offered her the world without varnish. He offered her sights hidden behind closed doors and gossamer curtains. His world was one that was rife with sin and decadence. His was a world that Carmina, Kyrie, and Axel refused to let her see. They would not let their precious, innocent Fuka be subject to the truths of the world. To carnal pleasures and desires for men that they did not have a way to control. She resented them in a way for that. They thought her so innocent as to not know what a man and woman did behind closed doors. She certainly was naive at times yes, but once she learned of the true nature of things it wasn’t like she was entirely foolish of what they entailed. 

Dorian’s brothel was a place forbidden, all because the man who owned it wanted to own her.  
And Fuku wanted to be owned.  
Controlled.  
Dominated and used.

She wanted to lose herself, because that was all she had a claim to- her mind, her body, and her spirit. 

Manboy was like a lure, a piece of innocence and kindness dangled in front of the beast to draw her close, to draw her in before showing her just what had managed to sink it’s fangs into her. He tried to turn her away, tried to get her to go back to the golden gilded cage that was the Oz estate. Yet the man with devil’s eyes and blue hair drew her to his claws. His words a delicious poison that promised sweet release. His hands so smooth under his gloves pulled her past those dark doors, up the winding staircases, and guided her with dark intent to the soft silks and tempting comforts of his bed.

She loved the taste of wine on his lips. The way he kissed her with a false affection that drew out breathless sighs of soft pleasure. Fuka melted as his hands ran down her legs, massaging her muscles, relaxing her as he’d slowly work her into obedience. Dorian’s warm, larger frame dwarfed hers, and under him she felt like she was being consumed. He dominated her not with rough blind passion but with his slow and drawn seduction. His tender touch and wicked words. Promises of sin and lust and acts unspoken of in polite company.

She gave her body to him, again and again, and he took all of her with an insatiable hunger. She was lost to Alfani for a time, but he couldn’t give her what Dorian did. Dorian took all of her, he took her innocence and molded it, shaped it into something of his desire. Alfani only took what she gave and asked for what he enjoyed.  
Dorian was her favored. Dorian was the wickedness she lusted for behind her innocence.

She gave him her body, and he took her mind. She felt to sin and darkness, and he caught her. He worshiped her, even as she dominated him. She craved him, and when he wasn’t enough, she took the golden prince, and when Alfani could not sate her, she drew in Manboy. Her beloved Manboy. The one who longed for the innocence she’d cast aside. He saw her, those last parts of her, unbroken, unclaimed. Her spirit had twisted, warped into something detached and lusty, but it was still her own, and it was to her spirit that he begged for her return. Her, a piece of herself for him. For what she had been.

A part of her loved him, sweet kind Manboy, and she’d grown bored. So she gave that part of her to him, and then-  
And then.

She took the one who had consumed her and consumed him.

His blue hair in her hands as she cried out in ecstasy. His tongue between her thighs. He was sweet, a devil with his words, and his silver tongue drew her passions out in every way. Silk ties he bound her at her will, bit her skin and left behind dark purple rings to show just what she enjoyed in her bed. Red marks ran down his back nightly, her claims on him rough and demanding as he’d thrust into her. And he’d fill her sex with his seed. But she was his beloved one. He would never burden her with his child.

They ensured it.

Again and again, even as she became the Mistress of the brothel, she still could never give him up. He was untamable as he’d always been, but her threat to his portrait always made his pulse race. Some nights she had him pleasure her with the painting leering over them, a reminder that he was her’s. It made him afraid, and he adored it. He loved her in his twisted way, how she’d been dominated and now dominated him from under his body.  
Her lips around his cock made him cry out and tremble. Her tight sex took him to the root, his seed filling her and spilling out as the sounds of wet heated flesh collided in the silken bed. He loved the pain she gave him, adoring her demanding voice to fuck her, to give her all she wanted and then more. She knew him as he knew her. 

His sin had become her own, and that was their ultimate pleasure. 

Manboy had once been her chosen, but she could not give him all of her. He could not give her all she desired. He was gentle, kind, and his wings longed for a freedom from sin. She was his cage, her sin embracing him and keeping him locked and chained to her. His heart broke under her love, and so she let him fly. She had no use for caged doves. Yet Manboy would never leave her. He was loyal, even when left for the man that had caught him and caged him.

Alfani was not enough to slake her lusts. He gave in too quickly, he worked and saw his role for pleasure and work. He did not take from her.

Dorian, her beloved priest, did.

He was her sin.  
He took her body, and stole her innocence away.  
He took her mind, shaped it with lust and sin and a freedom she’d never known.  
He was given her spirit, because he was the one who had understood her desires.

At night, when she’d seen to the patrons, ensured that coin flowed and clients were kept sated, she’d call him. Up he would rise, his hand in her’s, guiding her small body to her bed. He alone undressed her, kissing her, worshipping her as he whispered what depraved and debauched act he’d commit upon her pliant and willing body. Dorian lusted for the woman that had given him all of herself, the one he’d dominated until she dominated him. He loved her twisted lusts. Her craving for more and more salacious acts.

Together they were sin.  
Fuka, each night she drew her corrupt priest to her bed, she’d ask him what he desired and each time he gave her the same answer, his devil eyes showing his darkness the same way they had the first time he’d guided her past the dark doors of his establishment.

“All of you.”

**Author's Note:**

> I just like Dorian Gray because I'm twisted and damn I wish he had his own route.


End file.
